


White Wedding

by ramirezslut



Category: American Horror Story: 1984, Historical Criminals RPF
Genre: F/M, Forced, Rape, Wedding Night, bride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-01-24 15:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramirezslut/pseuds/ramirezslut
Summary: An imagine requested onmy Wattpad.Enjoy!
Relationships: Richard Ramirez/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

You sighed and rolled your eyes as the clerk of court pulled out a dusty binder, cleared his throat, paged into it, and began to read.

“You stand before me today….” 

His words lost meaning in your mind as you zoned out into the gray-specked tiles of the courthouse ceiling. Your mother had dragged you here to witness her wedding to perhaps the man you hated most in this world- her “boyfriend”, a 47-year-old thieving, lazy man named Richard Ramirez, or Richie as your mother called him. You wouldn’t stand up and voice your opinion now for fear of your mother beating you, but you opposed the union for several reasons, the least being Richard’s choice of occupation. 

It was apparent to you that Richard had married your mother for her money. This was her second go-round at marriage, and her first union (which bore you) had been to a man who was very wealthy from stock trading and had willed her $75 million dollars after he had died in a plane crash six years prior. It also irked you that Richard, as he often showed with his pentagram tattoos and all-black clothing, was a devil worshipper, as you were a devout Christian. His religion was the reason that their wedding was being performed at a courthouse instead of an expensive venue with a minister- he had moved in two weeks prior and had immediately begun removing all Christian items in the house and had forbidden you from going to church, much to your irritation. Given this, it was natural that he would refuse to participate in or attend a Christian wedding ceremony.

Although it made perfect sense to you why Richard would go after your mother, it puzzled you to no end why your mother, a wealthy Christian woman, would choose to marry man who worshipped the devil and spent most of his days watching porn, fucking her, and smoking weed. As you pondered it a bit more, you settled on an explanation- for all his vices and his age, he was good looking, with high cheekbones and a tall frame. For all you knew, he could have a big dick and your mother liked him for what he had below his waist. The theory made sense- though wealthy, your mother was 57 and not what most people would call “a good looking woman who aged well.”

The main, overarching reason why the wedding, and the idea of Richard living with you, scared you and put you off was that though Richard spent plenty of time balls deep in your mother, his eyes were never on her outside of the bedroom. When he made advances on her, it always seemed to be reluctantly. No… his eyes were for you. When you walked in his line of sight, his eyes were always on your tits, ass, and feet (if you weren’t wearing shoes or socks). One more than one occasion, you had seen him with a raging boner, standing in your bedroom doorway, “accidentally” having walked in on you changing. After that, he would usually go to the bathroom and use his time in there to lean against the wall, curls falling in his face as he stroked his dick furiously. You had tried to tell your mother, but she didn’t believe you. Considering that all this had happened so frequently in only the span of the two weeks he had been living with you, you were scared that it would happen more if he moved in permanently. You were most of all terrified that he would make his thoughts deed- you wanted to save yourself for marriage.

Within a few minutes, the ceremony was over. As the clerk handed them a document that recorded their marriage, your mother looked at you for congratulations and approval on their union. Instead, you just rolled your eyes and halfheartedly hugged her, her expensive white dress getting in the way. You backed away from her, but your eyes couldn’t help but notice the tall, lankily muscled body next to her. You didn’t even want to look at Richard, but even when you didn’t look him in the eyes, you could still tell that his arms were outstretched, too. You wanted to be as far away from him as possible, but you knew that your mother wouldn’t let you get away without giving him a “congratulatory” hug. 

So you obliged her. Holding out your arms and not meeting your new stepfather’s eyes, you gave him the same halfhearted hug you had given your mother. Only this time, he pulled you close so that your face was smushed in his heaving chest. As he held the hug, he moved his huge hands down south, from your shoulder blades, down to your lower back, and finally to where he wanted them- your round ass. He squeezed your ass and gave each cheek a little smack of his hand. You looked to your mother for help, but she was turned away, babbling on her cell phone to someone.

You had enough. You pulled away from your lecherous stepfather’s hug and backed away from him. He advanced on you slowly, his chest-length curls falling in his face as he eyed you down.

“Richie! (Y/N)! Come on, it’s late. We’ve got to get home before it gets dark!”

Thank God. You were saved. Richard, irritated that he hadn’t gotten to touch more of you, scoffed quietly at your mother’s comment about not wanting to go home in the dark. You knew that he loved the dark; he always robbed houses in the dark. Sometimes it puzzled you why Richard still broke into houses, considering that he was now the husband of a woman worth $75 million. You supposed it was for the rush that robbery gave him, and left the topic alone for the rest of the drive home.

Once you and your new “family” arrived home, your mother quickly told you that there was dinner in the freezer. You could tell that she was just trying to get you out of her hair so she could have her wedding night with “her Richie.” You could feel Richard’s eyes raking down your shivering, young body, and you wanted him out of your hair as soon as possible. You forced a smile, acknowledged her, and left them alone to fuck in their bedroom while you went to go get your dinner.

You went to your big, ornate kitchen and took the turkey dinner your mother had made two days prior out and put it in the microwave. As it heated, you heard a muffled scream from your mother in the bedroom. Oh well, you thought, Richard must have just hit a good spot inside her. When the microwave dinged, you took the plate out and moved to sit at the dining table.

Instead of walking to your seat, you found your path blocked by the same tall form that had groped you earlier. Richard. Your new stepfather.

“Hello, little one.” His voice was powerful and deep as he walked closer to you, grabbing your arm that wasn’t carrying the food. You struggled to get away. What was he doing in here, anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be consummating his union with your mother?

“Ugh-let me go, Richard!” you yelled, trying to twist out of his grip. Upon hearing his name, his black, black eyes narrowed and he whispered lowly:

“Sit the fuck down, whore.”

Too stunned to disobey, you sat down and put your dinner on the table. He stalked closer and closer to you, knelt down so that his face was only about a foot from yours, and slapped you. Hard.

“Listen to me, bitch. You’re a big girl now- you’re what? Fifteen? I think you can fucking handle this.”

You sat, shellshocked, afraid for what he was about to say. You knew that it couldn’t be good- though Richard had groped you and masturbated to the sight of you, he had never called you bitch or whore before.

“Your mother and I never consummated that bullshit earlier she called our wedding.”

Well, at least you could both agree that the wedding earlier was bullshit.

“Did you hear that scream earlier? That was your mother.”

You knew what was coming next and you didn’t want to hear it.

“I killed her.”

You knew it. Though she had caused you immense pain throughout your life, you still loved her, and tears began to stream down your puffy face as you cursed Richard. He had managed to ruin your life, completely. He laughed an evil, otherwordly, high-pitched laugh that didn’t seem like it could come from a man with such a deep voice as you tried to get out of your seat and run to the phone to call 911.

Your hand was on the “1” when you heard the rack of a slide behind you. You knew what it was, and the knowledge that you were about to be shot and killed, the second victim of a gruesome family murder, stayed your hand. 911 would never know what happened that night.

“Turn around, cunt, and come here.”

You did as he said, knowing better than to resist. You would do anything if it meant not being shot. You slowly did as he said, walking over and standing where he motioned to.

Having subordinated you, Richard flicked the safety back on and holstered the gun in his waistband. He grinned that evil grin of his, sat down in the chair in front of your food and patted his lap for you to sit on. You didn’t want to sit on his lap and feel the boner that you could see raging under his black jeans, but you knew you had to.

He had you in a perfect position. He whispered softly to you in your ear.

“Good little girl. From the moment I saw your young little ass walking down the street with that bitch I married, I knew I would have you. You see, I never wanted her. I married her because I knew that was the only way we would ever get to be together. Now that whore is dead.”

You started crying again.

“Shut up, bitch. Not until too long ago, girls like you and men like me, at our ages, used to marry. Wives were slave to their husband’s every desire, romantic, platonic… sexual.”

He grinned a creepily wide grin.

“Now my wife is dead. Back at that time, when a man’s wife died, he immediately took a new wife to care for him, pleasure him, bear his children… I’ve waited too long for you. I want you as my wife, (y/n).”

“I-I-”

“Silence, kitten. As my wife, all you need to say is ‘Yes, Master’. These modern marriages are supposedly partnerships, but not ours. You do what I say, nothing more, nothing less. You care for me as your husband, and I will make sure you are cared for as my wife.”

You sobbed into his strong shoulder. To your suprise, he began to gently rub your back in circles.

As they had hours earlier, his giant hands moved slowly down to your ass, squeezing it and rubbing it as he captured your mouth in a French kiss that you were too shocked to break. He quickly got more aggressive, standing up with you still in his arms. He strode quickly to… the bedroom. Your heart dropped. You knew in your heart that you would not end this night a virgin, no matter how hard you tried. No… your new husband, stepfather, and senior by 32 years would lie you on your back and gleefully take what you had worked so hard to preserve- your innocence. The thought made you want to vomit, but you knew that he would kill you if you did.

Your new husband walked into your bedroom and set you down softly on the bed. You looked into his eyes- they were terrifying and their gaze made you feel like he was staring right into your soul. You couldn’t move.

Which was all the better for Richard. Once he had you on your back, he undid his belt and bound your hands to the headboard, leaving you helpless to resist his ministrations on your body. Richard pulled a pocketknife out and cut all your clothes off, throwing them in the corner of the room. 

He grinned again. He finally had you naked, helpless, and under his control. Richard took advantage of your nudity and immediately started kissing your feet, which you had exfoliated and rubbed with shea butter earlier that day. You squirmed at your bonds as you felt a ticklish sensation when he took each of your toes in his mouth and massaged your feet.

His eyes heavily lidded with pleasure, he reciprocated and undressed himself, revealing a body that was slim, muscular, and that defied his real age. Most 47-year-old men have loose skin and beer bellies, but not Richard. Richard had the body of a Latino god, and you couldn’t help but admit that it was gorgeous.

Your reveling in his glory was cut short when your eyes grazed downwards to his abdomen. The old wives’ tale about “big hands and big feet” was true.

He had a huge, thick cock. At least eight inches and as thick as your wrist, if not larger. You were terrified. You had never had nor wanted a cock inside you before, and here you were. You knew losing your virginity would be painful, and you knew in the back of your mind that your new husband wouldn’t be gentle in claiming “his rights” with his massive erection. 

Richard heaved his big, masculine body on top of your tiny one and eyed your pussy hungrily. Holding the base of his cock, he guided it to your slit and rubbed it up and down, forcing you to get wet against your will. You whimpered and shut your eyes and mouth, not wanting to moan and acknowledge the pleasure that this rapist was bringing you.

Without warning, he shoved his cock deeply into you. Your eyes shot open and you screamed in pain as you felt like you were being torn apart and thrown back together again. Richard groaned loudly and gave you no time to adjust to his big dick, grabbing your hips and pulling them in to meet his thrusts.

“mmm, yeah, good bitch, yeah, just like that mami.”

You begged between sobs for him to stop. You just wanted it over with. You didn’t care at this point if he shot you or not- you just wanted his member out of you. His thrusts were rock hard and he stroked in and out of you at inhuman speeds, especially for a middle-aged man.

Deciding to just try and ignore the pain, you focused on a clock in the edge of the room. You saw the minutes counting by, one, two, three, five, ten… you felt Richard’s thrusts for all that time. How was he keeping up that pace?

Looking back at your husband, you saw beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he fucked you brutally, like an animal in heat. After a few minutes more, you felt a warmth inside of you. He untied your hands from the backboard of the bed.

The feeling of his cum inside you panicked you. Although he was pushing 50, you knew that men could father children at any age… and that you were at an extremely fertile time, being fifteen and ovulating then. Sex outside of Christian marriage was one thing; having children outside of Christian wedlock was another. Your young body wasn’t prepared to have children, and your mind wasn’t prepared either. Especially not with the man who had just raped you and murdered your mother.

Richard rolled off of you and clothed himself in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and black silk boxers. He turned off the lights and got into bed, pulling the sheets over you, his wife. 

“Sweet dreams, little one.”


	2. I’m back bitches!

Soooo I know a lot of you missed me and for a while I just had major writers block. But.... I’m back! Back and ready to write ;) 

Comment me some ideas for a new story!


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